My last post of the year and a superficial one at best as am only writing it to make sure that I have posted something every month this year. Indeed I could just end it there but now that I have actual subscribers and am propper blogger, my sense of moral responsibility has kicked in. Fortunately writing longer-than-one-sentence-blogs is as far as my morals reach, thus leaving me open to all kinds of perversion and anti-societal behavior. So that’s a good thing.
Today I have become a year older. This hardly merits celebrating as it merely represents the fact that I have lasted an additional 365 days since I was last well-wished by people I’m only in contact with once a year on Facebook. This is the last birthday of my 40s which is alarming as next year I will have reached the official mid-point of everything which means there is no more peak, only valley until the ultimate valley of all valleys. That’s death if you’re not a big fan of P-salms or national parks.
This is what is meant by ‘over the hill’ as in you’ve reached the summit that you’ve been scrambling for all these years only to look down and realize that it’s all downhill from now on. Actually I think I reached the summit a decade ago but the old motor I’ve been cruising along in apparently stalled at the top just as I was about to start my descent and so we’ve been sat there teetering on the edge of the hill for a while as a succession of mechanics* tried to give the old body a reboot. If only my collection of cells and water were as reliable as a Honda Fit (sports edition of course). Never mind, soon enough I shall be careening down the other side of the hill while screaming ‘Let Her Go’ at the top of my lungs. Hopefully there’s a soft landing at the bottom of the valley and not barbed wire and a small family.
Leaving aside thoughts of my crankshaft, I am amazed by my age as it seems highly unlikely that I’ve been around for this long without achieving great fame and success. Yet my body is showing all predicted signs of wear and tear and making mockery of my hours spent in the gym.
Weakened muscles cause the spine to droop. Hearing of high frequency sounds reduces by up to 75%. Disorders of the joints may now appear. Body weight diminishes.
As I am not a dog, I’m not too concerned about being unable to hear high frequency sounds. And I already have the joint disorders. So it appears that all I need to expect is a diminishing body weight and diminishing is an excellent word which suggests no real work on my part. My favorite things about this picture is Aralyn’s handwritten note next to the old age woman, saying [normal, so why fight it]. As there is no question mark, this is clearly a rhetorical question. And she does have a point, but there’s just no way I’m accepting that old woman’s haircut. It wasn’t that great when she was in her 40s, but now it just looks coarse and wiry and is heading for complete transparency by the time she’s in her 60’s. By 75 she will either have her transparent hair in a bun or will be bald with a large growth in the back of her head. So yes Aralyn I will fight, if only for my right for opaque hair.
These are the parts of aging that no-one talks about. And like the hideousness of giving birth, you cannot tell those who have yet to experience it. Not because they won’t listen but because you’ll be dead. Possibly from the sticky-outy bun growth thing.
Happy new year.
* analogy, not real mechanics.